


Miscommunication

by arsenicprince



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other, i just wanted to write their relationship, this is just a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicprince/pseuds/arsenicprince
Summary: The Annual nations meeting is going on, it was supposed to be a black tie event, but McCree got the wrong idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Churro_Chie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churro_Chie/gifts).



> This is @Churro_Chie's fault, I can't believe I actually wrote this, but merry christmas you fuck.

The annual Nations meeting was an important time for Overwatch, more accurately it was a vital time. This was the one year all of the big wigs, who funded the organization, and the political representative for each nation gathered together with the agents of Overwatch. Mostly, it was a barely covert way for the nations to make sure their tax money was going to a good cause, but it was also a good time for the normally alert agents to let their guard down, because for once they were under the protection of every military force they sides with, anti-omnic rioters and terrorists didn’t stand a chance trying to strike at this meeting.  


The event was incredible formal, it should have been common sense considering kings, queens, prime ministers, and presidents were all gathered under the same room. At least, Gabriel had expected it to be common sense. God, he thought Jesse was joking when he asked what he should wear to the event, or that maybe the boy was just trying to get someone to buy him a fancy tuxedo considering all he owned were his tattered Deadlock gang clothes, and his standard issue Blackwatch attire. Gabe had been certain that Ana would have gotten him fitted with a suit months in advance. When Jesse had asked the stupidly obvious question, Gabe never thought he would take to heart his response, the kid never listened to him any other time, so why now?  


“Gabe what should I wear to this fancy shindig?”  


Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose, barely able to hold back the tirade he so desperately wanted to go on, “First, I’ve told you a million times before not to call me Gabe, Pendejo,” he breathed out. “Second, what do you think you should be wearing?”  


“Oh I dunno Gab- Sir,” McCree scratched the back of his head, the ridiculous cowboy hat on top of his head shifting ever so slightly. “I figure I’d just wear my regular duds.”  


“No you will not,” Even though he wanted to scold McCree he gave him the benefit of the doubt, in hindsight maybe a little too much. “Showing up in one of those food mascot costumes would really wow them.”  
“Is it a costume party?”  


“Might as well be with all those monkey suits we’re all forced into,” Gabe smirked, a hint of mirth in his dark eyes.  


It was supposed to be a harmless joke. Gabe never once thought that McCree would take it the wrong way, the kid was oblivious and childish but he wasn’t dumb. Maybe it was his fault, maybe the constant joking about wearing ridiculous costumes he did during the months leading up to the event put the wrong idea in Jesse’s head. Never once did it cross Gabe’s mind that he was the one supposed to take the kid to get a suit fitted, nobody had said anything about it to him, as if it were just expected that he was to be this wannabe cowboy’s caretaker.  


So when that fateful day came, Gabe had expected a clean cut, fresh pressed, dapper McCree to waltz into the room. What Gabe had not expected was Jesse McCree to come in dressed in a fucking hot dog suit. Time slowed for Gabe, he could feel the stares of all of the other Overwatch agents on him, that kind of stares that even without looking at it, he knew would say ‘You had one fucking job Gabe.’ Gabe was over aware of the awkward clearing of some stuffy politician’s throat. McCree looked around nervously from his spot in the doorway, slowly taking in that everyone what dressed for a black tie event. He could see the dark scowl on Gabe’s face as his commander stomped towards him, and Gabe suddenly knew he was about to get the verbal lashing of a life time.  


“What the fuck is this,” Gabe motioned to, well, all of McCree.  


“You made it sound like a costume party!”  


Gabe muttered something under his breath, “It was a joke, Hijo de puta, I figured you would know better.”  


Gabe looked up, looking at the stupid gaudy eyes printed on the hot dog suit, eye traveling up to see McCree’s signature cowboy hat resting on top of the costume. Gabe snatched the hat off of McCree’s costume, stomping out of the party with Jesse hot on his heels.  


“Give me back my hat, jeffe!”  


“No,” Gabe hissed out. “You’re not getting this fucking piece of shit back, I’m burning this thing.”  


“Gabe, no please, not the hat!”


End file.
